


Unshakeable Memories

by terma_archivist



Category: Millennium (TV), The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-01-01
Updated: 2002-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:01:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26535514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terma_archivist/pseuds/terma_archivist
Summary: Note from alicettlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atTER/MAand was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address onthe TER/MA collection profile.Author's Note: Beta thanks to Sue, Frankie and Nicole. This story was written in stages, so that's the reason for fragmented writing. Anyway, it's in my MM/XF AU, which basically means Frank Black is Krycek's father, Krycek's a Fibbie... not much else. Rating: M for basic violence, cursing, and Spender.
Collections: TER/MA





	Unshakeable Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alicettlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [TER/MA](https://fanlore.org/wiki/TER/MA) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the TER/MA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/terma/profile).  
> Author's Note: Beta thanks to Sue, Frankie and Nicole. This story was written in stages, so that's the reason for fragmented writing. Anyway, it's in my MM/XF AU, which basically means Frank Black is Krycek's father, Krycek's a Fibbie... not much else. Rating: M for basic violence, cursing, and Spender.

  
**Unshakeable Memories  
by Fleur**

  
_Who am I, who dares to keep  
His head held high while millions weep.. _

She stares across at me, and I'm too tired to meet her eyes any longer. I want everything to go away. Everyone. 

"Tell me what happened." 

I meet her bright blue eyes, and shake my head. It's been too much. I just want to curl up and die. It seems it's only the two of us left. 

"You have to tell someone." 

I know she's right, but I don't want to tell her. I've done some things in the path of the past few days that I'm not proud of. I wish I hadn't done them, but it's too late for regrets. 

After a few more minutes, I look up at her again, and sigh. 

I do have to tell her 

Otherwise they have won. 

I must resist. 

* * *

We're in the car the night it begins. I'm sitting in the back seat, Jordan shotgun to Frank driving. She's talking about something. Admittedly, I'd tuned out a long time ago. 

She's in the middle of her story, gesturing wildly and talking in an animated tone, when everything stops. Turns off. 

The car goes dead, all the instruments, all the lights, the engine. I check my watch and see it has stopped. 

Shit! 

There were a few other cars on the road, and I jump out to find that the people are staying in them. If I could warn them, I would, but I have myself and two others to think of already. 

I don't like caring for others. I'm not at all used to it. 

I jump out of the car, and Frank looks over his shoulder at me. 

"Hey. What are you doing?" 

"Frank, you've got to get out of the car," I reply quickly, flinging open Jordan's door. "I know what this is." 

Luckily for me, he complies, getting out and looking at me over the roof. 

"Alex, what is it?" 

I want to tell him, but we don't have the time and I don't want to try. It's too complicated. 

"We've got to run." 

Jordan looks up at me then. "Why?" 

I don't dare look up, in case my fears have confirmation. I don't want to see the ships, hovering above like large, solid black clouds. 

"I can't tell you now. But we've got to get out of here. Out of sight." 

Frank comes around to my side of the car. "Tell us what's happening." 

"I don't have the time!" I exclaim, suddenly growing anxious. "They're coming. They're already here. If we don't go, they'll take us." 

"Who are _they_?" 

I sigh. Sometimes I wish Frank knew what was going on. "Them. Aliens, extraterrestrials, whatever name you give them. The colonists." 

"How do you know?" 

Frank looks somewhat suspicious. I don't blame him. 

"Remember how I told you about the syndicate? They're working with them." 

"They're working with aliens?!" 

I snap. "Yes!" 

He reaches down and picks Jordan up. "What can we do? Where could we go?" 

"I have no idea," I reply honestly. "We've got to keep on the run, though." 

His eyes search mine, and I know he's trying to understand. "Okay. Lead." 

Simply, I nod. I've been prepared somewhat for this; I knew it was coming. I just didn't expect it so soon. The dates have all been pushed forward. 

"Don't look up," I advise, and run. I hear Frank following me, and I wonder where the hell we're going to go. 

* * *

There won't be any DC. I know that without needing to see the remains of the city. There won't be any cities left. Just ruins. 

Eventually, we stop in the middle of the woods. I hope we'll be safe—but there's no way of telling. 

I look at Jordan. Out of the three of us, she's the one who's going to get tired. 

"You okay?" I ask slowly. She nods, but doesn't say anything, which is enough of a indicator that she definitely needs a break. I sigh, but look around. 

It isn't even a clearing—as dark as is possible. The trees loom overhead, reaching down to claim us. 

Or are those the ships? 

I shrug. "I think this is as good a place as any." 

Jordan just drops, and I sigh. She is incredibly tired—we've been running straight for about an hour, and she's probably run about half of that, Frank carrying her for the rest of the time. 

She curls up in a foetal position, and I just watch her. 

Frank does the same, and when I look up, he simply says, "Tell me what you know, Alex." 

I lean back against a tree, and slide down it to the ground. 

"This has been coming for a long time. They've planned for it, you realise. The aliens. They've been slowly breeding themselves in, by DNA insertions." 

At that point I look at Jordan. On a whim, I crawl across to her, and pull the left sleeve of her shirt up. Upon not finding a vaccination scar on her, I look up at Frank. 

"Has she been vaccinated against Smallpox?" 

He frowns. "I don't think so." 

I don't say anything to that, simply continuing my story. "And now they're here to take over totally. We can't do anything but run. And keep on running. And resist." 

"Resist?" 

"Or serve," I finish for him. "And believe me, you don't want that. For her." 

His glance flickers to Jordan on the ground, and I watch a multitude of expressions play over his face. 

"I have to find everyone else. Mulder, Scully—" 

My voice trails off as Frank looks up at me, a new light in his eyes. "What's going to happen?" 

"I don't know," I answer honestly. "We run... but beyond that, I can't see, I can't tell." 

We're silent for a while, until he shivers, and looks up into the sky. "What do they look like?" 

"The ships?" 

"Yeah." 

"Like nothing you can imagine." 

He drops his gaze. "And them?" 

"Like anyone." 

He raises an eyebrow, and I elaborate. 

"They can shapeshift, and could turn up in any form. You can't..." I trail off, then echo Mulder's words, a phrase he had used a lifetime ago. "Trust no one." 

He stares at me for a while. "Then what chance do we have?" 

"What is there to live for?" 

He nods slightly, finally understanding. 

"You should sleep," I tell him. "We've got a long journey ahead of us." 

Frank looks down at his daughter, looking young and vulnerable in her sleep. Almost without me noticing, he nods a little, and lies down next to her. 

I don't plan to sleep. How could I? 

The night is long, but neither of them wake up. I keep my eyes trained on my watch, as the seconds tick away, turning into minutes, and then hours. 

At five, I realise I should wake them, and reach over to shake Frank awake. 

He stirs, and looks up at me. I motion that we have to get going, and he stands. 

Jordan's still asleep, and neither of us want to interrupt her peace. I envy her that peace. 

I know that today will be the day to find people. I want to find Mulder, and convince myself that he is actually as all right as I think, as I hope. 

Frank leans down and shakes her awake. She looks up at me with eyes still mostly asleep, and I wish we didn't have to do this. 

But we don't have a choice. 

Well, there is one, but it isn't much of a choice. Resist or Serve. 

Frank picks her up, and I realise, surprised, that he intends to carry her. We'll move faster, but he'll tire quicker. There's no way I could carry her all that way. And it is going to be a long way today. 

I shrug, and check the compass on my watch. We need to travel vaguely north, to get to a highway. I kept a basic track of the direction we were running in last night, and if we head in a northerly direction, we should find ourselves on a highway before dark. 

Of course, we can't follow the highway; they'll find us easily. But if we keep an eye on it, and don't deviate too far, we should be fine. 

I don't think we should run for the first while. There's no reason to, so I indicate for us to walk. 

Frank takes the opportunity to let Jordan walk for herself, and she does. I watch her carefully, aware that she'll tire easily. 

By ten o'clock, I realise it is about time to begin running, and pick up the pace, not daring to speak. It's getting light now, and I don't want to think about what may be watching us, or listening. 

The one thing I hate about running is the way my phantom arm heats up, and itches. I used to do a lot of running—of course, it was partly due to the fact Mulder runs, but since Russia, I haven't liked to. 

There's a noise from in front of us, and I stop in my tracks, not even daring to think about what it might be. 

Frank and Jordan stop, too, and look at me. I indicate for them to crouch down, and slowly inch forward, drawing my gun out. 

The sounds stop, and I realise they're probably watching me at the same time. 

I'm about to step forward, when something comes out at me from the bush, and knocks me off balance. 

I catch hold of the man's shirt to keep from stumbling, and manage to steady myself enough to let go of my grip, and hold my gun up in his face. His eyes focus, and I realise that his face is bleeding from a cut. 

Red blood. 

He's human, thank god. 

I take him in again. He's arrogant looking, although rough, and he has a sneer I wouldn't mind being able to pull off. His hair's curlier than Jordan's, and for a man, that's an accomplishment. 

"Who the hell are you?" he asks, trying to appear tough, although my gun shakes him a little. 

"The one with the gun, and therefore the one asking the questions," I reply. "Who the hell are you?" 

He looks me up and down, and chuckles a little. "Come on, give me a break. You couldn't beat me. You're a cripple." 

Deftly switching my gun to my prosthetic, I grab him by the collar and push him up against a nearby tree. 

"Watch it," I growl. "I could take you easily." 

He cocks an eyebrow, and I feel like smacking him across the face. "I don't think so. I'm a federal agent." 

"I'm an assassin," I reply shortly, getting right into his personal space—the best way I know to dominate a situation, and watching as he turns whiter. 

Suddenly, I drop him, and step back, taking the gun back and keeping it trained on him. 

"Who are you," I repeat, and he finally gives in. 

"Jeffrey Spender." 

I know that name—Mulder's mentioned him a few times. He looks at me, that sneer back on his face again, and I know he's expecting my name. 

"Alex Krycek." 

Recognition dawns on his face, although I don't know where he could have heard my name before. My real name. At the Bureau, I'm "Alex Black". Not Krycek. What the hell's going on? 

"Agent Mulder," he says, and the way he spits Mulder's name, you'd think it was a curse. Has he been talking about me? Not like him. 

I don't say anything, simply glaring at Spender in a hint to continue. 

"My father gave me directions to a place I'll be safe, okay? I don't even know what's going on." 

"Then how does your father?" 

It's all in the family, one gets the feeling. 

"I don't know how my father knows anything." 

I'm starting to get an awful feeling about this guy, branching from things that Mulder has told me, and who he looks like. 

I realise where else I've heard his name. 

The Cancer Man. This is his son. 

* * *

Don't ask me why we let Spender tag along with us. I had no part in the decision, and I didn't particularly want him along. 

"Krycek," he begins conversationally. I ignore him. 

"Alex?" 

I continue ignoring him. I wonder offhand what he was going to say, but don't let it bother me for long. He gives up, and I stop, hearing a sound. 

"Down," I hiss. Jordan's walking at my side by that time, and I get her down under my arm. 

Spender doesn't pay my warning any attention, and I hear the distinct crack of a gunshot, and watch as he falls to the ground, hit. 

I don't want to know if the shooter is human or not. I prefer to assume the best. 

There's no time to stay and mourn, especially if there's a shooter in the area. I have a gun—but that will only work if the shooter is human. 

I look behind me to find Frank looking at Spender's body, in shock. It doesn't affect me so much—I've seen a lot of death in my lifetime. So has he, but I've instigated a lot of death. 

And I've been prepared for the carnage we have to go through now. 

Springing up, not daring to look in the direction the shot came from, I grab Jordan by the back of the shirt to pull her to her feet, and run. 

It's a good half hour before I stop running, and then it's only because I can't hear anything behind me. 

Both Frank and Jordan are gone. 

Shit. 

* * *

I backtrack for about ten minutes, wondering if I should call out. I don't want to, for fear they'll hear, and find me. 

"Alex?" I hear Jordan call, and just about fall over with relief. 

I run towards the sound, and thankfully catch sight of her. However, she's looking in the other direction, and I see a woman there. 

Frank's standing right up with the woman, who's reaching out towards him. I freeze, and she looks towards me, her face wavering and changing a little. 

It recognises me. 

And I, it. 

"Frank," I hiss. "Look out." 

Jordan turns around to me. "It's Mommy." 

Oh, god. They've gotten clever. 

"It's not," I insist, more to Frank than to Jordan. "Look at the eyes." 

The woman looks towards me, and her eyes instinctively cloud over with the black. Frank sees, also, and cringes back. He steps away, seeing that it's not her. 

However, we're not safe. The woman leans down, and beckons to Jordan. "Come here, honey." 

Jordan steps forward, all innocence. I lunge out to stop her, but the woman fixes me with a glare. 

"Jordan!" Frank calls, but she hardly notices. 

The woman reaches down and picks Jordan up. I realise that we're going to lose Jordan if we don't get the woman in the back of the neck. 

I know they can often have slow reaction times, so I swiftly go around to her back, and flick out a sharp point I've carried for a while. 

I stab it through the base of the woman's neck, then step back as the green slime-ish liquid bubbles out. 

Frank darts forward to catch Jordan, who's staring at me wide-eyed. Perhaps the last half day has held a lot of revelations for her—her brother's not the squeaky-clean innocent she thought. 

I step away from the body which is disintegrating rapidly. I meet Frank's eyes, finding them full of unanswered questions. 

I don't know where to start, so I simply state, "She was a clone." 

And turn my back on where the body was, seconds ago, and walk off. 

* * *

Dusk is falling. 

It's getting a bit colder, and I can see Jordan shivering. We've stopped. I fear that we've lost our way—we should have reached the highway hours ago. When we were shot at, I think we panicked and ran, not noticing what the direction was. 

Frank's been shaken badly by Catherine turning up, and I don't blame him. 

That's what is going to make this battle hard to fight. They don't have any morals. I mean, I only have a few—but they have none. 

I don't think we should try to go any further tonight—it'll be easier when it's light, and we can at least see something. 

I sit down first, and Jordan takes that as her cue to collapse. I feel bad for taxing her so much, but it can't be helped. Frank sits down too, and I suddenly wish it was safe enough to start a fire. It's certainly cold enough. 

Unfortunately that sort of light would give us away quickly. 

I can't hear anything, and that is part of what is currently spooking me. Usually at night there are some sounds at least; although not human. 

No, I lie. There is a sound at the moment—a very low humming. I just want to ignore it. I know it's a ship. 

A distant part of me wonders where the consortium are. If, as I expect, the aliens have gone back and turned against everyone, I think they'll have taken the easy option, and killed themselves. 

Jordan's fast asleep. It doesn't take long. One part of me wants to sleep, but I silence it fast. There's no way I'll sleep now. 

I've been preparing for this for so long, and now it has come, and I don't know what to do, where to run. 

Frank's looking past me. Through me. 

"We're not going to live, are we?" 

It's more of a statement than a question, and I'm glad he left it until after Jordan's sleeping to ask it. 

I shrug. "We might." 

"Why?" 

I could take that monosyllabic word to mean a few things. `Why won't we live' is one of them. `Why would we want to' is another. I don't answer, and I suppose it was rhetorical, because Frank doesn't pursue the issue. 

He's watching her again, somewhat sadly. It is sad—if she lives, what sort of world is it going to be for her? 

I want to find Mulder. I want him. I want to know that he's safe. 

He will be. I don't think they'd kill him—he's too valuable. Not like me. I don't think the colonists will give a damn about a two faced, one armed Russian assassin like me. The thought is kind of disturbing. 

Frank's eyes are shut. Time to keep watch again. 

_Tell me before I seek worthier pastures  
And thereby restore self esteem..   
How can you be so short-sighted   
To look no further than this week or next week   
To have no impossible dream? _

* * *

The day dawns clear, but a fine day makes no difference now. The sun is bright - even if half of it is blocked by shadow. The trees filter out a lot of the remaining light, but it still casts quite a sun on us. However, slowly the sun is being taken over. 

I must have slept sometime, but neither of the other two are awake. 

I don't want to say anything, but I'm worried about Jordan. With the clone, how close she got. 

After a while, they both wake up, Jordan first. I take the opportunity to look closely at her, and when she gives me a strange glance, I simply ask, "Are you feeling okay?" 

She nods. "I'm okay." 

Frank awakens soon after, and I wonder if either of them are hungry. There's not much I can do about it, but I hope they're not. 

We have a lot of walking to do today, to make up for yesterday's muck up. 

I check my watch, and without saying anything, start walking north. The other two follow me. 

We make a path for ourselves, for the most part very quiet, and making good time. By midday, I couldn't say how far we'd gone, but it was a fair way. 

Frank had Jordan on his back by then, and she was asleep, from what I could see. I was offhandedly wondering why she was sleeping so much, but came to the conclusion that it was due to her being overworked—which she definitely was. 

I see a break in the trees a little bit ahead, and walk a bit quicker, dodging the trees rather than pushing at them, and come out on the main road. 

Falling to my knees, I grin widely, as Frank comes up behind me. He moves beside me, and looks at my expression. 

"Why is this so important?" 

I shake my head. "They haven't bombed it. It's still here." 

He thinks I'm manic. I don't blame him—I guess I'm not making much sense to anyone but myself. It doesn't matter much any more. 

We've found the road. I know where I am. 

All we have to do, is travel along the west side, and we'll come to the shelter the syndicate had set away for plan B. 

I stand up, and look at my watch. West is to my right. 

I stop, and glance at my watch. To my _right_? Shouldn't west be to my left if I'm facing north? 

Shit. 

Damn. 

Hell. 

We've gone the wrong way. South. How the fuck could I make that sort of mistake? 

How fucking stupid am I? 

I fall forward, and smack my head several times on the road. Frank stops me, holding my head back. I slam a fist down. If there was ever a time that I felt like throwing a tantrum, this would be it. 

Violently, I stand up, rip off my watch, and hurl it at the ground, angered. I kick the stupid thing. Stand on it, while all the time Frank is giving me an entirely strange look. 

I glance up at him. He reaches out a hand, and I shrug it instantly off my shoulder. 

"Alex, what is it?" 

"We've gone the," I say quietly, then shout as loud as I can, "WRONG GODDAMN WAY!" 

Jordan startles awake, and stares at me. I sit down there and then, and put my forehead in my palm. 

"Stupid fucking fool," I tell myself. "Doesn't take much intellect to tell north from south. Fucking idiot." 

Frank breaks into my thoughts. "Hey," he says, "Don't worry. Don't beat yourself up over it." 

Oh yes. How do I beat myself? With one hand, don't I, Mulder? 

"We can just walk back." 

"And we've lost one whole fucking day!" 

"Nothing can be done about it, Alex," he tells me patiently. I know, I know, but it's still goddamn idiotic. 

I don't bother replying, until I hear a motor. 

It can't be a car. 

It sounds like one. 

Dismayed, I raise my eyes to the skies, and see what I dread—a ship. 

One of the smaller ones, this one is—small, black, and speeding towards us at a great rate. 

"Get off this," I hiss, and spring towards the side of the road. Frank and Jordan follow my example, and we end up crouched behind a clump of bushes. 

Something shining on the road catches my eye. 

My goddamn watch. 

Instantly, my mind runs through the possibilities. They don't see it. They see it and take it. They see it, take it, and decide we're around. They see it, take it, and use the DNA prints on it to make a cloned army of me. 

Or I run out and get it. 

Deciding on the last option, and ignoring Frank's exclamation of surprise, I jump out and sprint out onto the road, grabbing it and wishing the buzzing wasn't as loud as it actually is. 

As I jump back behind the bush, I hear the buzzing stop. Crouching low again, and attempting to slow my breathing, I peek back at it. 

The ship—which I see is smaller than I expected, not half the size of the jeep - is hovering over the spot I was only a minute ago. 

Slowly, it turns, until I swear, it is fucking well _facing_ us. Something on the end comes out, retracts back in again. A laser is suddenly beamed down onto the ground at the edge of the road, and slowly moves forward. 

God. It's tracking us. 

A feeling of dread building up inside me, I pick Jordan up and run, trusting that Frank will catch on and follow. 

I don't turn back for five minutes, until I realise I can't hear the buzzing any longer. 

I wildly look all around, but the ship is nowhere to be seen. I set Jordan down, and look back through the section of forest we've come crashing through. 

Nothing. 

No one. 

Where's Frank? 

I shiver. It's cold in the middle of all the trees. Jordan's standing close to me—needing my body heat. 

I look down at her, not wanting to say anything, but still unwilling to go back to look for Frank, for fear of the ship. 

Silently, I crouch down to Jordan's level, and indicate for her to be silent. There's no sound whatsoever. 

I don't know what to do. Luckily, Jordan decides it for me. 

She simply starts walking back along the makeshift path, and I follow her. 

* * *

"Frank?" I call, the question mark obvious in my voice. 

"Daddy?" Jordan echoes me. 

There's no answer, and no buzzing. Nothing. 

We're back beside the road again, but there's nothing. I know Frank saw the path we took—it'd be impossible to miss, we made such an extreme mess of it. So what had happened? 

Jordan walked out on the road, and I followed her lead, trying to find a vantage point to see where he could possibly be. 

He couldn't have just disappeared. 

Right? 

Jordan's face changes suddenly, which is what basically tells me we're not going to find him. 

"He's gone," she states simply, looking blankly into the forest. 

I step over to her. "What do you mean?" 

She looks at me, her eyes suddenly focussing. "He's gone. It took him." 

I don't bother questioning. I know by now that she just... knows these things. So I simply take her hand, and the two of us walk down the road. West. 

* * *

By the time dusk falls, we're in a city. Well, what used to be a city. I don't know where we are. I lost track of where we were quite some time ago. I failed Geography anyway. 

Everything seems to be black. The burnt-down buildings are only ashes now, most of which are in the air due to winds. The sky is darkened with clouds—at least I hope they're clouds. 

I haven't seen any people. The entire city seems to be completely devoid of life. 

I see a car. It's dead, of course, but it's a car. I go over to it, Jordan following. 

It's Mulder's. Well, I don't know for sure, but it's the correct type. He's nowhere to be seen, and I wonder if he's looking for me in the same way I'm looking for him. 

I run a finger along the top of the car, and it comes off mostly black, from the ash. I blink, realising that he's gone. Assuming it is his car. 

I wish there was sun. Warmth. Because Jordan's beginning to shiver, and I don't know how I'm going to keep her warm—without a fire. 

"Are you warm enough?" I ask distractedly. 

She simply shakes her head, and I pick her up. 

"Where's Fox gone?" 

"That's what I want to know." 

"He's not very far away," she says, looking at the ground. 

I wonder how she knows that, and glance down to where she is looking. Footprints in the ash. Two sets. 

Fox Mulder's. 

And Dana Scully's. 

* * *

In idiotic hope, I walk off in the direction the tracks lead. Hoping they're both alive, together, and themselves. Sounds strange, but it's true. 

Jordan's too cold. I shrug off my leather jacket to give to her to wear—it covers most of her body, but it should be warm. I'm no longer warm enough, but that doesn't matter as much. I'm used to the cold. She isn't. 

I don't know how long we walk for, I don't look at my watch. I'm wondering if Frank's still alive. I have serious doubts. I almost hope he's not. Because he's certainly been captured. 

It sounds like we're now animals, running away from capture. That is what it's like. I don't know what we can do; where we can go. 

Eventually, there is a mixture in the tracks. They cross, mull around—like the two broke into an impromptu waltz or something similar. Then they go off in opposite directions—down the left and right forks of the road. 

I think they thought the two roads would meet up somewhere along the line, but they're wrong. What is the difference between the two? Life or death. Resist or Serve. 

My instincts tell me, as Jordan drops to the road beside my feet, that Scully has taken the safer road. Life, resistance, safety. Mulder, _my_ Mulder, has taken the other road. The road less travelled. 

Who am I supposed to follow? 

What should go first? 

Instinctive safety of Jordan and myself, even though I have my own private demonic suspicions about her state, or my need to find Mulder, perhaps for the last time? 

It's typical. He always is the less logical one. He probably got a feeling on one of the forks, and went along it. Or made Scully. Or perhaps he just picked at random. 

But it leaves me with a hard decision. 

A _damn_ hard decision. 

What do I put first? Our safety, or my feelings? 

A year ago, I would have followed Scully's fork, no hesitation. Always caring for Alex Krycek, no one else. Now I also have Jordan to care for—but I need to find Mulder. 

I'm fooling myself. I know my decision. It's already made. 

Dragging Jordan to her feet, and picking her up, I walk along the left fork. 

Mulder's. 

* * *

By seven, according to my watch, we haven't found him. His tracks fade in and out—we're in bush again, and the ash doesn't cover everything. I'm afraid of losing the tracks. 

Jordan hasn't stirred, on my shoulder, for a good hour, and I'm half-worrying. I don't like worrying. I hate caring. I hate knowing that if something happens to her, I'm actually going to give a damn. 

Then, and I can't believe it, but there's a flashlight shining through the trees, and the words, "Freeze! Federal Agent, I'm armed." 

It has to be him. It's his voice. God, let it be him and not a clone. 

"Federal Agent," I reply easily. "I'm one-armed." 

The flashlight suddenly moves, and he comes around the corner. I quickly set Jordan down, and Mulder catches me in an embrace. 

"What the hell was that for?" I ask, glad to finally find him. 

"This is it, isn't it." 

"Yeah." 

He looks down at Jordan, who, miraculously, is still asleep. "Where's Frank?" 

"I don't know. Gone." 

"How'd you find me?" 

I simply look at him, glad I took this fork. He looks totally rundown. I don't blame him. He's unshaven, his clothes are torn, and his hair sticking out in all directions. His eyes are tired. "We followed the tracks," I tell him, not taking my eyes off his face, "And found you." 

"What's going to happen?" 

I watch him, how he's suddenly, childishly afraid. "No one knows." 

He turns around. "I lit a fire." 

Despite the danger it poses, I'm instantly grateful. Despite myself, I'm cooling off quickly, and wishing for the warmth of my jacket. He picks Jordan up—thank god, I'm getting tired of lifting her with one hand—and we walk over to his small fire. 

A tingling feeling immediately hits my right hand, as the warmth creeps through, eradicating the cold. I cringe, as it's almost painful. The warmth snakes its way up my arm, and into my shoulder. The flames dance around, and I watch them, intrigued. I've always bordered on being a pyromaniac. 

Mulder sits opposite me, and he lays Jordan down next to the fire. Not surprisingly, she doesn't wake. 

"Have you slept?" I ask Mulder. 

He shakes his head. "I don't know how long it's been, though." 

"Sleep. I'll stay up." 

Mulder looks at me closely. "You haven't slept lately either." 

He's right. I haven't. Since this whole thing began. But I don't want to sleep, either. I have to stay awake for him. And her. 

Jordan stirs, and sits up. "Fox?" 

He looks at her. "You okay, Jordan?" 

"Mmmhmmm. I'm hot." 

I don't bother exchanging a glance with Mulder; I know he's looking at me. "Are you feeling all right?" I ask Jordan. "Not sick?" 

"No, just hot," she replies, shrugging off my jacket. Then she immediately shivers, and I move over to put it back on her. She sits and stares at the fire for a while, and I watch her carefully. 

My attention is suddenly drawn to a movement on her forehead, and I startle. 

Did I imagine it? 

Did I just imagine a fucking black cancer worm crawl, under the skin, across my sister's forehead? 

Mulder suddenly glances at me, and I know I must be pale. "You okay, Alex?" 

I blink. Must have been my stupid imagination again. "I'm fine." 

Jordan seems fine. She curls up again, closing her eyes with obvious intention to sleep. Damned if I'm going to sleep—if she has the fucking virus, I'm gonna be the first goddamn person to know about it. 

Memories of the silo wash through me, coughing up the oil out of every orifice, pain overcoming every nerve. Incredible fear. A want to die, to just stop everything. The knowledge that the oil is always going to have a hold on me. Claustrophobia. Darkness. Fear. 

She can't have it. 

It wouldn't be fair. 

Mulder's staring through the fire, oblivious to my thoughts. He's a million miles away, and I don't want to disturb him. His eyes are hollow, and the fire reflects in them, dancing light. I reach over to touch his shoulder, and he turns to me. 

"You've got to sleep, Mulder," I tell him. "We'll try to get something done tomorrow." 

He nods blankly, but doesn't reply, and makes no movement to sleep. I watch him for a while, then sigh, mostly out of frustration. 

"Alex," he begins shakily, "What's going to happen to us all?" 

I don't answer. I don't know the answer. 

Accepting my response, or decided lack of response, Mulder lies down, and goes to sleep. I stay awake, eyes trained on Jordan, until I see the worm crawl back across her forehead. 

It can't be true. There has to be a way that I'm imagining this. 

She can't have it. I keep telling myself that, and I suppose it's to fool myself. What else could it be? 

I don't want her to have to go through what I did, or even worse—I wouldn't wish it on her, ever. I'd wish it on a few of my worst enemies, but not on Jordan. She hasn't done anything to deserve this. 

Without realising, I've moved around the fire to her side, and am gently stroking her hair. When did I become such a goddamn basket case, may I ask? I don't care about anyone. 

Story of my life. 

If Jordan has it... and there's no point in denying that fact any longer... then, what am I going to do? Much as it pains me to admit it, I care for her. That wasn't in my great "How to survive life without giving a fuck about anyone but yourself" plan. Of course, Jordan didn't fit into that at all. 

She's too young. It's not fair. 

Hang on, Alex, what the hell happened to not caring? 

I care. I don't believe it, but I care. 

Damnit. 

_There must be something worth living for. No, there is nothing.  
There must be something worth trying for.   
I don't believe it's so.   
Even some things worth dying for   
If just one man could stand tall   
There would be some hope for us all   
Somewhere, somewhere in the spirit of man. _

* * *

I open my eyes, realising immediately that I've been asleep again. 

Jordan appeared to have been sleeping, cuddled into my chest, and my arm's around her. I wonder when we got like this. 

Suddenly, I notice that Mulder's no longer around. 

I gently disentangle Jordan from me, and leave her by the fire. I'm about to call out for Mulder, when I catch sight of him, standing up, about ten feet away from me. He's staring at something. 

"Mulder," I call softly, not wanting to wake Jordan. "Hey, Mulder." 

He doesn't turn, and I doubt he's heard me. I walk up to him, and notice he's completely blanked out. 

"Mulder, what is it?" 

I finally see a shift in expression, and he doesn't look at me, as he whispers, "It's her, Alex, it's her." 

I follow his line of vision, and see a girl, standing between the trees, looking at us as we are her. She's taller than Jordan, and has long braids. I don't recognise her, but then, I'm not supposed to. 

"Who..." I begin to ask, then stop, at the expression on Mulder's face. It's impossible to describe, I wouldn't even know where to begin. 

"Samantha," he whispers in reply. "It's her, it's my sister." 

He walks forward a few paces, and bends down. "Samantha, it's me, Fox." 

She blinks a few times, and I step back, suddenly unnerved. 

"Fox?" 

I can see by his body language how hard this is for him, and I don't know what to think. From behind me, I hear my name called. Speaking of sisters... 

I turn around to Jordan, and she comes up to me, taking my hand in hers. "Who is that?" 

"Samantha," I reply, but my voice comes out strangely. "Mulder's sister." 

She shakes her head, and I frown. "I don't like her." 

I want to reply, but before I can, Samantha runs forward, glancing behind her as if she's expecting to be pursued, and straight into Mulder's arms. He embraces her tightly, and I wonder for a little bit, if all is as it seems. 

"What's happened, Fox?" I hear her ask, and step back, realising Jordan, for some reason, is behind my legs. 

He lets her go, studying her face. "God, Sam, so much has... what happened to you?" 

I watch as she shakes her head, then answers, "It seems like... last night I was playing Stratego with you, and now..." 

Suddenly, her attention is diverted, and she looks at me. Her eyes... something's strange about them. "Who's that?" 

He turns, and I barely recognise the face. I knew that Samantha was his weak spot, but... "Alex. That's Alex." 

She looks at me, but doesn't say anything, turning back to her brother. "What happened to you, Fox?" 

His face... it's so desperate. He smiles sadly. "I grew up, I guess." 

I don't see or hear her reply, because Jordan's tugging at my shirt. I turn to her, bending down so we're on the same level. 

"I don't like her, Alex." 

"Why not?" 

"She's going to hurt Fox." 

I study her face for a minute, and she looks back just as seriously. "She won't, she's his—" 

Fuck. 

Shit damn hell. 

Jordan's eyes just clouded over with the black oil. 

I stand up, taking my eyes off hers, and going over to Mulder. 

"Mulder, come on, you've got to..." 

He looks at me, and it's such a distant, faded version of my Mulder, that I don't know what to say. Wordlessly he turns back to Samantha, who takes his hand. 

"What the hell's happening?" I ask, but neither of them notice me. Mulder stands up, and Samantha leads him off. 

"Mulder?" 

He doesn't hear, and is lead away by the girl. 

"Mulder!" I shout suddenly, sprinting after them and grabbing his arm. "What the hell is this, Mulder? What are you doing?" 

Samantha glares at me. "Leave him." 

I look back at her, then realisation dawns on me. It's not Samantha. I talk sideways, to Mulder, not daring to take my eyes off her. "It's not her. Mulder, it's not her, it's them, they're doing this..." 

I trail off when I notice he's not listening any longer. Samantha walks, and he goes along with her. I scream his name, but suddenly can't follow them any further. 

A force hits me hard in the chest, throwing me backwards and knocking me unconscious. 

* * *

"Mulder," I mutter, regaining conciousness. Suddenly I snap upright, hand immediately going to my head as dizziness strikes. "Where's Mulder?" 

I notice Jordan a few feet away from me, curled up. She looks at me momentarily, and I'm relieved to see that her eyes are back to normal. "I feel sick," she practically whimpers. "How come people get sick?" 

Shit! 

I move over to her. "How do you feel sick?" 

"I feel like throwing up." 

Suddenly, I remember the silo again. I don't want her to go through that, the way I did. She doesn't deserve such a fate. I watch her, and her eyes suddenly cloud over again. 

"Jordan?" I ask tentatively. "You okay?" 

"I'm fine," she replies—or whatever it is that has taken her body, replies. I don't know what to do. 

"Come on, I know the way, Alex," she tells me, standing up. She blinks, and the oil is suddenly gone. I freeze, watching her. 

"Alex?" 

I shake my head, dispelling the images that suddenly came to me. I motion to my lap. "Come here, Jordan." 

I need to hold her, even if it is for the last time. 

She turns into my chest, and I cradle her with my hand, stroking her hair. I know what I have to do. I can't let her go through with this. I don't want to watch her suffering. I don't want her to suffer. 

I hold her close, wishing I didn't care so much for her. When did I grow so attached? Whatever happened to not caring? 

To hell with that. 

Jordan turns her face up to look at me. "Why are you crying, Alex?" 

I shake my head, then bend down to kiss her lightly on the forehead. I stand up, leaving her on the ground. 

"Goodbye, Jordan," I whisper, then, as she blinks and the oil clouds her eyes over again, I take out my gun, take off the safety, close my eyes, and shoot. 

She will not serve. 

* * *

I wish there was time for a proper burial, but time is an invaluable commodity now, and I have to keep running. I simply pick up Jordan's body, and cover it in the nearby branches that are lying about. I look at it for a minute, and wish I hadn't, because I'm quickly overcome with memories. 

* * *

Frank placed his daughter on the ground. "How was school?" 

She didn't reply, instead pointing past him, at me. "Who's that, Daddy?" 

Frank turned around, and gave me a strange look. I think he was waiting for me to say something, but I couldn't. I was caught up in watching Jordan... my sister? 

I became aware that I must have been staring, but Frank obviously gave up, and introduced me himself. "He's a friend of mine, Jordan." 

"Does he talk?" 

I'd never been around children before, so was unprepared for such a question. I suddenly decided to talk. "Hi, Jordan." 

"What's your name?" she asked. 

I smiled at her. "Alex." 

* * *

"Alex?" Jordan ventured from the doorway. 

I turned, momentarily, to look at her, then back down again. "Go away." 

"I'm sorry, Alex." 

"Jordan," I replied without looking up, "You don't know what the hell you're talking about. Go away." 

For a while more, she was silent, and then she said quietly, "I drew you something." 

"I'm not in the mood." 

She didn't reply, and when I looked up, she was standing there watching me. 

"Don't be angry, Alex." 

"I'm not angry," I replied quickly, then looked back at her again. "Okay, maybe I am." 

She stood in the doorway for a while longer, until I relented and motioned to the bed beside me. "Come on." 

I was rewarded with a quick smile, and a running jump onto the bed beside me. 

* * *

"It's time for you to sleep." 

"Why? It's not even dark!" 

"That," I began melodramatically, "Is because the lights are still on." 

She grinned, and I went over to the light switch. 

"Is your girlfriend coming over, Alex?" 

I had to laugh at that one. "I don't _have_ a girlfriend, Jordan, we've been through this." 

"I know," she replied. "So is Fox coming over?" 

I clapped a hand to my forehead theatrically. "You're not supposed to know about him. And don't call him Fox." 

A giggle. "Why not?" 

"Because he doesn't like it. Call him Mulder." 

"I want to call him Fox." 

* * *

I turn away, unwilling to show any more emotion. Placing my jacket beside her, I leave. Do svidaniya, Jordan. Ya myaso ty. 

* * *

I've been running for god knows how many hours, but I've finally found something. A place. Civilisation. I pound on the door, hoping, needing someone to answer. I'm desperate. 

It's a bomb shelter, I suppose. I don't really know. I wait for a minute longer, then pound on the door again, mentally willing the person inside to answer. 

Suddenly, it's opened a crack, and I almost fall over from relief. 

"Who is it?" 

A female voice. God. I try to see through the slit, and catch a glimpse of blue eyes. Another person. I don't believe it. "Alex..." I start, then hesitate, unsure of which last name to use. "... Krycek." 

The door is opened to its extent. "Krycek?" 

It's Scully. Thank fucking god. She's not dead. Despite all that's happened between us in the past, we both step forward and hug, drawing comfort. She draws back first. 

"Is Mulder...?" 

I shake my head, looking down. When I raise my gaze again, she's paled visibly. I speak, "Anyone else here?" 

Dully, she replies, "They're all dead." 

She lets me in. 

We will not serve. 

* * *

I raise my eyes to meet hers, again. I'm not crying this time... emotions have all run dry. I don't have any energy left. She's looking at me, and I don't know what she's thinking. 

"Krycek," she says softly, "Why did you hesitate in telling me?" 

I search her face, trying to find some comfort there. "I... I didn't do things as I should have. I'm sorry." 

"Did you realise you were speaking in present tense?" 

I shake my head, wordlessly. I didn't know. Perhaps it was because I was reliving it, but I didn't notice. It must mean something. I wish she could tell me... but Mulder was more that way inclined. To analyse things. 

Mulder. So many have gone now, one more is... not quite meaningless, but still. I can't believe how my world has fallen apart. 

She moves to lightly touch my shoulder with her hand, and the gesture is so delicate, yet means so much. 

There's a knock at the door. I know exactly who it is. Or what it is, as the case may be. I don't say anything to Scully, but I know what it is. She gets up, then looks at me. 

I'm staring back, wondering how I could have changed so much in such a short time. She bends down, and kisses me lightly on the forehead. 

The simple gesture means so much to me now, that I bury my face in my knees and sob. I don't believe it. 

When I hear the gunshot, I know it's happened. I expected as such. That is why I didn't stop her from answering the door, why I didn't tell her. There was no point in her knowing. Nothing she could have done about it. And now there's only one thing left for me to do. 

The world has ended, on December thirty-first, Nineteen-ninety nine. 

I take out my gun, and click the safety off, pointing it at my head. 

I will resist. 

The End

* * *

Rating: M for basic violence, cursing, and Spender.   
Disclaimer: They all belong to Chris Carter, and don't tell him about this - they sneak out the back door to come play with me.   
Feedback: [email removed] or [email removed]   
Author's Note: Beta thanks to Sue, Frankie and Nicole. This story was written in stages, so that's the reason for fragmented writing. Anyway, it's in my MM/XF AU, which basically means Frank Black is Krycek's father, Krycek's a Fibbie... not much else. Visit my website: http://members.xoom.com/forbiddnlove/   
WARNING! Death story ahead!   
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